


Splendid Larks

by rain_sleet_snow



Category: Frederica - Georgette Heyer, HEYER Georgette - Works, The Quiet Gentleman - Georgette Heyer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-18
Updated: 2015-01-18
Packaged: 2018-03-08 03:54:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,425
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3194348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rain_sleet_snow/pseuds/rain_sleet_snow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hyde Park is rather too full of mischievous boys for Drusilla and Gervase to enjoy an uninterrupted newlyweds’ outing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Splendid Larks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [redsnake05](https://archiveofourown.org/users/redsnake05/gifts).



> A fandomstocking fic.

             Drusilla Frant, née Morville, was a native of the Metropolis, and had perforce spent a great deal of time in it. She had largely moved in the intellectual circles her parents adorned, rather than the fashionable world her new husband favoured, but she was nonetheless reasonably sure that Hyde Park had contained fewer mischievous boys when she was last present. Drusilla rearranged her skirts and stared with interest at the latest wrongdoer, who appeared to be engaged in a garbled explanation of Newtonian physics with relation to a hoop and a stick he had been playing with (or _experimenting_ with, as he kept insisting to Gervase). By his expression, Drusilla thought that Gervase did not set much stock in this explanation for having dived practically under the horses' hooves, causing several impressionable ladies to scream and Gervase to pull up the horses in a terrible hurry, cursing fluently in Spanish. If it had been the first interruption to their airing, Gervase might have been less stern. It was not.

 

            She and Gervase had hardly entered the Park for a brief, refreshing drive when they had encountered Martin - so much a reformed character that he regularly ventured to enjoy Gervase's company, but still an impulsive young man - and several bosom-bows, including the irrepressible Nicky Carlyon, scheming how to bring down the ducks resting quietly on the Serpentine. Their plans were sufficiently advanced that Gervase felt the need to halt the curricle and remark that if he, Martin, brought the Bow Street Runners and half of Horse Guards down on himself for firing shots in the Park, then he, Gervase, would leave him to stew in Newgate for at least a week, a remark that made Martin grin and say that he wagered he could bring down a brace of those ducks and be off with them before the Runners had even got their boots on. Since Martin was undoubtedly a good enough shot, and quite possibly fast enough, to carry out this threat, Drusilla had been moved to enquire as to what Martin proposed to do with them having killed them, since city-bred birds would probably be most unpalatable. This gave the young gentlemen sufficient pause for thought that Drusilla and Gervase were able to drive off, reasonably confident that the cook at the Frant townhouse would not be presented with a brace of mangy fowl from Hyde Park.

 

            "That was a stroke of genius, my robin," Gervase said when they were out of Martin's earshot, turning his head to smile at her. Drusilla, who showed no signs of growing accustomed to his peculiarly sweet smiles despite a reasonably long engagement and several months of wedded bliss, smiled back.

 

            "Martin is very practical," she pointed out as Gervase turned his eyes back to the road, registered the existence of the Ombersley children and their low-flying kite, and accounted for the chance that they would startle the horses. "In his own way."

 

            "Very true, but I had not thought to tell him any birds he brought down would be inedible; that was an excellent notion. I would like to kiss you, were we somewhere less congested and were you wearing a less beautiful bonnet."

 

            Drusilla opened her mouth to remark that she knew she should have worn her old blue-trimmed straw, and then a boy of perhaps thirteen years of age shot out of a small side path in hot pursuit of a rolling hoop and their attention was definitively diverted, resulting in the scene that Drusilla was now watching unfold.

 

            "Never mind that," Gervase said impatiently, apparently tiring of the principles of Newtonian physics. "Who the devil are you, and why is your governess letting you run around like the little savage you undoubtedly are?"

 

            "I haven't got a governess and my name's Felix Merriville," the boy said, evidently unoffended.

 

            "Merriville?" Drusilla said, attention caught. "The boy who had that terrible balloon accident last year?"

 

            "Balloon accident?" Gervase repeated in tones of scepticism, but Felix was already nodding enthusiastically.

 

            "It was a _marvellous_ adventure, ma'am," Felix said. "Of course, Cousin Alverstoke was not very pleased, and I did not _mean_ to frighten Frederica and Charis, but -"

 

            Gervase was staring at Felix with a look on his handsome face that said he was not sure whether to give in to amusement or to attempt to maintain sternness, and Felix, clearly having divined this internal confusion, smiled winningly at him. Unfortunately for his campaign of charm, a taller and older stripling cantered up on a beautiful horse which he flung himself off, aiming a blistering reproof at Felix in accents which made it clear that he was Felix's older brother. Drusilla, whose knowledge of the Merrivilles began and ended with the nine days' wonder of Felix's unscheduled flight and the intelligence that the oldest sister had later married the younger ones' guardian, was temporarily confused, but then the stripling, red in the face with embarrassment and exertion, explained himself.

 

            "I am so sorry, sir, I had not realised my younger brother would be such a - a _jackanapes_ when he knows _perfectly well_ he is to behave himself in the Park and the only reason we left him alone with that - that _hoop_ is because he _promised he would,_ didn't you, Felix?" (Felix looked unrepentant.) "In any case, I am Jessamy Merriville, and I am truly very sorry that he has inconvenienced you both, sir - ma'am - that is, I hope -" Jessamy bowed in several directions at once, getting more flustered by the second. Drusilla ruthlessly controlled the twitching of her mouth.

 

            "Never mind," Gervase cut in, looking profoundly amused. "No harm was done - to your brother or my horses. In future, Master Felix, I recommend you take a little more care with your experiments. And if the Cousin Alverstoke you referred to is the Marquis of Alverstoke, then I think you will find him not far behind you. Good morning, Alverstoke!"

 

            "St Erth," said the rather saturnine-looking man drawing up his horses beside them. A handsome young woman, not in her very first youth but with bright eyes, a brighter smile and a pronounced resemblance to Jessamy, sat next to him, as did a very large dog of indeterminate breed. "An unexpected pleasure, sir. And this must be Lady St Erth? I congratulate you on your marriage. I do not think you have previously met my wife, although her brothers appear to have made themselves known to you."

 

            Gervase and the Marquis engaged in a polite exchange of information about the recent accident, while Lady Alverstoke got down from her phaeton - attended by the dog - and made her way over to Felix, who was as begrimed as boys of all sizes generally were, and did her best to tidy him. The dog leapt upon Jessamy, and was scolded in exasperated but affectionate accents which indicated that it had unwisely been named Lufra. Drusilla stared at the reins Gervase had stuffed into her hands when he jumped down to remonstrate with Felix, and wished she could make Lady Alverstoke's acquaintance. Fortunately, Lady Alverstoke came to her, laying one hand on the side of the curricle and smiling that confiding smile up at her. "I am pleased to meet you, Lady St Erth. May I join you, since you are confined to your curricle?"

 

            "Please do," Drusilla said. "I trust your brother is unhurt? St Erth thought so, but I am afraid it was rather a close call."

 

            Lady Alverstoke was unperturbed. "I assure you Felix has had closer; he has a wonderful knack for them. I have given up worrying about him."

 

            "I was in London last June," Drusilla said. "I heard about his unfortunate accident then."

 

            A slight shadow passed over Lady Alverstoke's face, and Drusilla wished she hadn't mentioned it. "That was a closer call than usual. Still, he is quite recovered, although he is not cured of his scientific tendency."

 

            "My brother is a scholar," Drusilla said, leaping for safer territory. "I do not think anything stops the true scientist. Explosions, accidents and other mishaps are treated as - minor bumps on the road to enlightenment, perhaps."

 

            Lady Alverstoke laughed. "That describes Felix exactly. Are you interested in such things yourself? Your husband and mine are friends, I believe, and he told me that you were the daughter of the authoress Cordelia Consett - I think I have read some of your mother's novels. I meant to call, but we have only just arrived in London."

 

            "Of course," Drusilla said, and freed her hands enough to exchange a visiting card with Lady Alverstoke. The newly printed ones that said _The Countess of_ _St Erth_ were still strange to her. "And no, unfortunately, I do not share my parents' scholarly turn, though I was given every advantage of education that I was thought to be suited to." She smiled. "Most disconcerting for them."

 

            "I think good parents take their children as individuals," Lady Alverstoke said seriously. "There is just no sense in expecting, say, my needlework to be as good as my sister Charis's simply because we are sisters, or my brother Harry to be as clever as Jessamy or Felix. For that matter, being brothers doesn't make Felix like horses any more than Jessamy likes steam trains!"

 

            Drusilla followed her gaze to where Jessamy, Gervase and Alverstoke had descended into a complex discussion of horseflesh. Felix had given up on them entirely, and was on the ground rough-housing with the dog Lufra and rendering his clothing even more disreputable.

 

            Drusilla smiled. "I have always thought it perverse of people to want siblings to be _quite_ alike, for who would want to be exactly like their own brothers and sisters? I could not be less like my brothers, but I love them very dearly."

 

            "I feel the same," Lady Alverstoke said, and a dimple added itself to her smile. "And I should think the household would descend into madness were I to take to falling out of balloons."

 

            Felix overheard this, and gave her a dubious look. "It was a splendid lark, Freddy, but I don't think you'd like it very much."

 

            Drusilla choked on a laugh.

 

            "My love, I am sure I would not," Lady Alverstoke said composedly. "By the by, have you apologised to Lady St Erth for interrupting her drive?"

 

            Felix, clearly recognising a cue when he was given one, disembarrassed himself of the dog and made a creditable bow and apology that was only spoiled by the addition of "but you do understand it was an experiment, ma'am? I didn't _mean_ to inconvenience you and Lord St Erth."

 

            "Of course not," Drusilla said, controlling her face and voice with some difficulty, and drawing on her limited knowledge of her brother's studies at Cambridge. "And experiments must be repeated, mustn't they? Perhaps you could repeat this one somewhere with fewer people?"

 

            Felix's face split into a tremendous grin. "I _knew_ you were a right one, ma'am!"

 

            Drusilla thanked him as solemnly as she could, and was fortunately released from the need not to laugh when Lufra knocked Felix flat to play with him some more. Lady Alverstoke's mouth was quivering with laughter, and her shoulders shaking.

 

            "I am afraid that is my disgraceful brother's highest compliment!"

 

            "I am honoured," Drusilla said, resorting to the straight face she used when Gervase had just said something sweetly-spoken and quite outrageous to the Dowager, and then letting her laughter show through. "He is charming, and I am sure he will make an excellent scientist."

 

            "I have always thought so myself, provided he can be prevented from putting an accidental period to his existence before he reaches twenty-one," Lady Alverstoke agreed, and then something caught her eye and she sighed. Drusilla looked round and saw that Jessamy had just remounted his horse, and the other gentlemen were making purposeful movements towards leaving.

 

            "I suppose they will not want to keep the horses standing much longer," Drusilla said, curiously disappointed. Most of Gervase's friends had barely adjusted to the news of his marriage to Drusilla, and Lady Alverstoke was the first lady she had met in Gervase's circle of friends and acquaintances who she felt might soon grow to be a friend, rather than someone who couldn't quite work out why wealthy, handsome Gervase Frant had married the plain, pragmatic daughter of a bluestocking.

 

            "No," Lady Alverstoke said rather regretfully. "A pity." She took out another of her cards, and wrote a few words on the back before handing it back to Drusilla. "We are holding a small at-home on Wednesday - just a few friends and acquaintances. You would be most welcome."

 

            "My dear," Alverstoke said, appearing beside the curricle, and handed Lady Alverstoke down. He smiled at Drusilla and bowed his head politely. "Lady St Erth."

 

            Drusilla returned his bow and smile. "Lord Alverstoke."

 

            "It was a pleasure to make your acquaintance," Lady Alverstoke said warmly. "I do hope to see you on Wednesday."

 

            Drusilla glanced down at the card in her lap. "I'm sure we'll come," she said, and smiled back at Lady Alverstoke.

 

            The Alverstokes departed - taking the dog, Felix, and Felix's hoop and stick - and Gervase swung back up into the curricle. Drusilla relinquished the reins. "I am sorry to have left you so long with the horses, Drusilla. Alverstoke is an old friend of mine, and I haven't seen him for some time. You seemed well-amused with his wife, though."

 

            "Yes," Drusilla said. "I like her very much. I am afraid I have committed us to her at-home on Wednesday, though if you should dislike it -"

 

            "Of course not," Gervase said, setting the horses to a trot. "I am only glad she has had the good taste to make a friend of you. I noticed Tiffany Earnshaw's revolting behaviour the other night - she has always been full of spite, Earnshaw should never have married her - and Marianne is a sweet girl, but not clever. I fear not all my friends have made you as welcome as I would wish."

 

            "I have friends of my own in London," Drusilla said, "a startling number of whom seem to think you an aristocratic degenerate - though a very handsome one with a great deal of address. And we will see a great deal of my aunt Morville, I expect. Her middle daughter has become quite close to Marianne." She tucked the card into her reticule and smiled up at Gervase. "I want for nothing, Gervase, I would tell you if I did. But I am glad to have met Lady Alverstoke."


End file.
